The End of Our Castles
by conventgirlvampire
Summary: Sometimes it feels like everything's falling apart around her but she knows better than that. The destruction's already done and she can only hope to survive in the wasteland of her empty soul.
1. Prologue

**Title:** The End of Our Castles

**Chapter:** 0

**Characters/Pairings:** Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Dave Karofsky, Sebastian Smythe, Faberry, Quinntana, Pezberry, FaPezBerry, Smythofsky

**Word Count:** 532

**Spoilers: **Up to Sectionals from season 1

**Summary:** Sometimes it feels like everything's falling apart around her but she knows better than that. The destruction's already done and she can only hope to survive in the wasteland of her empty soul.

**A/N:** It's short, I know, but it's the beginning to something I want to do with season one but not following canon (not all of it anyway). In essence, that means Kurt never transfers to Dalton, the Lucy storyline doesn't exist and the presence of Rachel's fathers is debatable (can't tell you that one yet). This isn't going to be Finn-friendly (are any of my fics?) and Rachel is not...well, you'll see. Also, it's initial focus is Faberry, hence the Faberry tag on FF. Lyrics used here are from _Castle of Glass_ from Linkin Park.

(Btw_, _I am aware of how many WIPs I have in progress. They will all be finished come hell or high water.)

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Never did.

* * *

**Prologue**

_Take me down to the river bend,_

_Take me down to the fighting end,_

_Wash the poison from off my skin_

_She me how to be whole again_

* * *

She dreamt in black and white. She never dreamt in colour. It was not something that bothered her but she was never comfortable with it. It was as if something was missing but she did not know what it was and she did not care enough to look for it.

That always did seem to be a common thread in her life. She was not whole, not entirely anyway. There was something fundamentally missing from her, something that prevented her from _feeling_ like other people did, that barred emotions from her soul.

She got up and left her room, intent on making her way to the living room. Only, the memory of what – or rather, who – was residing there at the moment made her stop short. She did not want to disturb them but there were things she needed to do, things that she would not normally do with someone there.

She debated it for a moment before changing course for the attic where her studio lay. She rarely ever used it for this purpose but she needed the blank canvas that her mind became when she moved through the forms she had learnt long ago in order to stop herself from doing anything she would end up regretting in the morning.

It was always like this and she could not say why, only that she was used to it. It was something that she had had to get used to, at any rate, and she was perfectly fine with that.

Assuming the standard starting stance, she shook her entire body once before moving into the form with a felid grace that she had long forgotten she had possessed. She paused at the thought, noting that it really had been a long time since she had last faced a mirror while doing this.

As time passed, her movements became more violent, more painful as she pushed her body to its limits and beyond. She was not normally masochistic, but this ritual turned her into someone that she hid, released the beast caged within her body that longed to play.

When the first nosebleed began, she reached for the weapons she had brought with her, crossing them briefly before moving into the next form. This was the most dangerous part of it. Press too hard and she would sever things that she should not. Too light, and the cuts would be too shallow for the effect she was supposed to produce. It was a delicate balance of visuals and sensations that she needed to maintain at all costs.

Hissing with the pain, she allowed herself a small smile before returning to her previous movements, red now colouring the air around her. In a way, it was a sight to behold, the way it appeared as if she could make it do what she wanted, slow down or speed up, with a turn here or a pause there. The control she had over the flow of her own blood never ceased to amaze her and it was this control that she was looking for tonight of all nights when all else seemed to fail her.

Control, after all, was all that Rachel had left.


	2. Pain Begets Pain

**Title:** The End of Our Castles

**Chapter:** 1

**Characters/Pairings:** Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Dave Karofsky, Sebastian Smythe, Faberry, Quinntana, Pezberry, FaPezBerry, Smythofsky

**Word Count:** 1,036

**Spoilers: **Up to Sectionals from season 1

**Summary:** Sometimes it feels like everything's falling apart around her but she knows better than that. The destruction's already done and she can only hope to survive in the wasteland of her empty soul.

**A/N:** Still short but also longer than the prologue. I find that I have trouble writing longer chapters so I'm working my way up. Lyrics used here are from _Tourniquet_ from Evanescence.

(Btw_, _I am aware of how many WIPs I have in progress. They will all be finished come hell or high water.)

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Never did.

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Pain Begets Pain**

_I tried to kill my pain_

_But only brought more_

_So much more_

_I lay dying_

_And I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal_

_I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming_

_Am I too lost to be saved?_

_Am I too lost?_

* * *

She walked into McKinley, eyes on the floor and not acknowledging anyone. She was struggling to breathe, to find comfort in the familiarity of the school's daily routine but there was none. The monotony dragged and clawed at her skin and she wanted out almost as soon as she walked in.

She felt uncomfortable, her sweater too hot, her skirt too short and everything just too restricting. It was quickly becoming too much for her and she wanted to throw up with each step she forced herself to take. However, she could not allow herself to do so, to let her weaknesses show at that moment. She was already too much of a target and she did not want to make it any easier.

Karofsky passed her by and stuck a hand out, gripping her forearm and pushing her against his locker. She knew that if she looked she could see something familiar in his eyes, something she felt deep down in her own soul but she did not. That reflection scared her more than words could ever say and she did not want to see it, did not want to acknowledge it or what it said about her.

"Behind the bleachers in ten minutes, RuPaul. Don't forget."

She nodded and pushed herself away from him, careful to keep her face blank. She did not need him to see how much his grip had hurt her even as she stifled a hiss of pain as she felt rather than saw the cuts open again. Thankfully, the sweater she was wearing was black otherwise the blood would have shown up.

Making her way to her locker to collect her books, she allowed herself a moment to breathe and collect her thoughts. She just needed to get through the rest of the day and then she could go to the dojo, channel her anger into something more constructive even as she used it to fuel her own self-destruction.

Self-destruction.

She knew that that was what she was doing but she did not care. She was tired and sick and she just wanted out of this life. Too much had happened in too short a time and she just wanted it to end, just wanted to stop feeling the pain and the hurt and everything that came with it.

Shaking herself out of those thoughts, she noticed that five minutes had passed. She was already late for her appointment with the bigger boy and she needed to get to the football field fast if she was to keep him off of her back today.

Weaving her way through the student body, she noted with a small bit of amusement that the gleeks who were supposed to be her friends were just as hostile as everyone else, sneering at her when she attempted to move past them. If only they could see what she saw then maybe…

No.

She tore herself away from that line of thought as she made her way onto the football field and to the bleachers where Karofsky was waiting, brow furrowed and lips moving silently as his eyes roamed through the words of the book in his hand. At least he was not impatient, she had to give him that.

"I never thought you would be one for reading," she said as she stopped in front of him, trying to see what exactly the book's title was.

"It's for class. Now get down and do what you're here for."

She nodded and got down on her knees, the rough surface of the ground grating against her knees. If her hands trembled as she reached for the zipper of his jeans, she did not pay it any attention. If bile rose in her throat as she approached the head of his cock, she simply pushed it back down and sucked on it, caressing it with her tongue as more time passed.

She had no right to regret this arrangement, to want out. She was the one who had approached him, ashamed and dirty, and she was the one who had gotten down on her knees that first time and kept him in her mouth until he came, much as she was doing now.

She was no longer dirty. She was more than that, filth of the lowest level that this was something that she should be grateful for. She knew that and she had to accept it. It was punishment disguised as a fair deal but she knew no other way to go about this, not now that she was…

She shook her head slightly, turning it into an attempt to get a better angle as she sucked harder and harsher, one hand cupping his balls as she worked her tongue against him as best she could. That time was over and done with and she needed to stop letting it invade her thoughts before it could do more harm than good.

When he came she made sure to swallow everything and clean up after herself, too many hours spent like this ingrained in her mind for anything else to take its place. Zipping up his fly, she looked up, meeting his eyes at last.

"No slushies on Fabray today, you hear me Dave?"

Her voice was soft enough to hide the tremor that marred it but if he noticed he gave no indication of it. Instead, he just grunted and turned a page in his book, his eyes never leaving hers though he did so.

"I mean it," she continued, "no slushies on her. She's with child and I don't want to have to lose members of the glee club to a trip to Lima Memorial should your Neanderthal brethren decide that hurting a pregnant girl is the new sport of choice in the hallways."

"Fine," he said in reply. "I'll spread the word."

Thinking that that was it, she turned and had begun walking away when she heard him call her name. Turning on the spot, she raised an eyebrow and waited for him to speak.

"You don't think of me like that, do you?"

"Of course not. You're smarter than most of them, Dave. Then again, why would you care what I think?"


	3. The Inevitable Is Here

**Title:** The End of Our Castles

**Chapter:** 2

**Characters/Pairings:** Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Dave Karofsky, Sebastian Smythe, Faberry, Quinntana, Pezberry, FaPezBerry, Smythofsky

**Word Count:** 2,255

**Spoilers: **Up to Sectionals from season 1

**Summary:** Sometimes it feels like everything's falling apart around her but she knows better than that. The destruction's already done and she can only hope to survive in the wasteland of her empty soul.

**Warning: **The end of this might be triggery. I suggest you read the author's note for more info.

**A/N:** Another longer yet short one. Um, a note on the end of this chapter. It's not non-con but I'm not sure if it should be labelled as dub-con because while Rachel does not want to do what she does, she still knows what she's getting into and allows him to do it. She literally gives him what he wants and she does so willingly because while the act itself is something she doesn't want there's something about him that makes her want to help him even if it's like this. He doesn't even want to do it, though, but they both want to feel normal. Also, he does give her the chance to back out but she doesn't take it. If anyone has concerns, just pm me, especially since I'm not even totally sure about this chapter. Lyrics used here are from _Haunted_ from Evanescence.

(Btw_, _I am aware of how many WIPs I have in progress. They will all be finished come hell or high water.)

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Never did.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**The Inevitable Is Here**

_Long lost words whisper slowly to me._

_Still can't find what keeps me here. _

_When all this time I've been so hollow inside, _

_I know you're still there._

* * *

She slipped into homeroom unseen, head down and eyes trained to the desk in front of her. She did not want to think, did not want to remember, did not want to feel. It was bad enough that she could still taste him in her mouth. She did not need the memory of how disgusted she felt when he was in her mouth as well

He was getting impatient, she could tell, and it scared her. He wanted – no – needed to be inside of her, to prove to himself that he was not what he thought he was, that he was normal. She would be the one to give that to him, or so she believed he saw her.

She shuddered and had to clap a shaking hand to her mouth to keep herself from making a sound. She did not want anyone to pay attention to her lest the guilt was clear to the naked eye. She did not need them to know.

The teacher in charge of them droned on about something but she did not know what it was, her eyes trained on where Karofsky had just entered the room. She did not want to look, to see how this was killing him as well but she knew that she had no choice. She needed that reassurance that she was not the only one suffering from this arrangement.

As she stared, he turned around and met her gaze, eyes narrowed and mouth twisting into a half-hearted sneer that she saw right through. They may not have been friends but they were bound together by the secrets they shared and she knew that he could no longer hate her.

She no longer hated him.

She could not hate him, could not hate someone who was so much like her, so broken and ruined by everything and yet still struggled to survive and stay above the raging waters that threatened to pull them under. They both risked everything in those brief minutes for the sake of a normality that was not theirs, would never be theirs.

"Ms. Berry, the bell has already rung. Do you intend to sit there all day?"

She looked at the teacher in front of her, the fog in her mind slowly receding and the waters calming just enough to let her focus on reality for a few moments. She looked around then, suddenly noticing that the room was empty save for her and the older woman.

Muttering an almost silent apology, she gathered her things and walked out of the classroom, her feet dragging her in the direction of a familiar locker. She did not want to stop but something compelled her and she found herself looking up just in time to see Finn standing over Quinn, slushie in hand.

She stopped and their eyes met, hazel pleading with brown for help, for sympathy, for anything other than what was about to happen. She knew that she should help, that she should say something, anything to stop the boy but she could not force herself to move, pure hatred, irrational and black, spreading through her though she did not know at whom or what it was directed.

Her eyes lingered on Quinn's as Finn pulled back to throw the slushie, but she knew that it would never make it. Quinn still had those who were loyal to her, those who would still defend her if she needed it.

True to form, Santana was the one to step up to the bat, grabbing Finn's hand and twisting it backward until the drink hit _his_ face instead. She stayed just long enough to shift her eyes away and take note of the anger on his face before she found herself running, her destination unknown.

When she finally stopped, she found herself in a bathroom on the second floor, breaths coming in short, ragged bursts, her heart racing too much for her to breathe. She recognised the attack for what it was and fumbled in her bag, searching for the relief she knew was in there.

The bottle shook in her hands as she extracted the pills, her nerves shot to hell already, and she had to swallow more than once before they would go down. Staring into the mirror, she had to wonder who the girl she was staring at really was.

_"You're damaged goods. Who'd want to be your friend anyway? Who'd want to love something like you?"_

She almost did not recognise the voice that hissed at her as her own but she knew that she was the one saying those words. She was the only one there after all and no one else knew the depths of how far her own insanity went. They only saw what she wanted them to see and nothing more. If it stung, she never showed it and she never would.

* * *

She was walking slowly, not wanting to go to class but not wanting to miss it either, when a hand grabbed her and pulled her into the nearest doorway. She stumbled into the darkness beyond it and into a soft yet firm body that held her close with such tenderness that she was almost surprised. Almost.

"What do you want Santana?" she asked, trying and failing to pull away. Being this close to the cheerleader was both too intoxicating and too painful and she wanted to get away from her before she let herself get hurt more than she already was.

"This."

Warm, eager lips descended on hers and her hands automatically rose up to tug at the Cheerio's ponytail. Santana pushed her up against the door, body moulding to fit hers as she nipped and sucked her on lower lip.

Santana was a good kisser, always had been, but, as the girl's tongue begged entry to her mouth, she could recognise something more than just good technique. She tasted of fear and desperation and desire, hidden and dark and calling out for someone, anyone, to release it and feed the beast within. She felt it in the way her hands twisted her sweater and pulled it over her head so that only her bra was the last barrier between her and her skin, heard it in the way the girl moaned her name in her ear as she let her hands travel under the Cheerio top to caress and scrape her nails down her back.

When Santana moved to place her leg in between hers, she pushed her away, searching blindly for her sweater. She was not prepared to be another person's plaything, another form of entertainment for the top of the school hierarchy who already seemed to get off on torturing her.

"Why?" the other girl asked just as she found the piece of clothing. "Everyone wants me. Why don't you?"

She sighed, knowing that she would have to tell the truth. It was still morning but already she was too tired to lie and something in Santana's voice made her want to tell her anyway.

"I do want you, but I…I still can't forgive you."

Pulling on her sweater, she slipped out of what she now recognised as a janitor's closet and headed in the direction of the parking lot. Not a lot had happened but she needed to get out of there, needed to get away from everything that threatened to overwhelm her at every turn.

She had walked to school so naturally she walked out as well. She idly noted that this was the first time that she willingly played truant, a thought that amused her as much as it made her pause to consider what she was doing.

She was breaking her own image by doing this, crushing the illusion that she had strived so hard to build during those first few years alone. She had spent so long in that illusion that sometimes she wondered if the diva everyone knew and hated was the real her.

Then again, she mused as she started walking again, she needed this, needed to escape before it all became too much again to handle and this time the stakes would be higher, much, much higher. It was just her this time, but she had been left alone in her own darkness for far too long and it was starting to get to her.

She glanced at the part of her lower arm that just barely peeked out from beneath the sweater, fresh wounds and white scars forming a strange contrast, and made her mind up. Turning back to the school, she made her way to her locker, picked up her books and walked back out. It would not do to leave anything that could point to her presence or lack thereof, after all.

As she walked, she let her mind wander, going back to a time when everything was just easier and less painful to bear. She wanted to return to that time, to those moments where she did not care about anything but what was happening around her and did not have to sink so low to get through a day without snapping.

It was hard to live now, hard to wake up when all she wanted was to sleep for the rest of her life and just avoid everything else. Those memories were the only good ones she had and she longed to stop the pain and go back to that but she could not do so without stopping everything.

Sometimes, she wanted to stop everything but there was something she had to live for, a secret and a truth that she never thought about but was always there at the back of her mind. She needed to live if only to see the promises made at the conception of that secret come to pass and only then would she be able to sleep as she wanted, falling into blissful darkness forevermore.

A horn caught her attention and she looked to her left just in time to see Karofsky pull up beside her. There was an unreadable expression on his face but she knew what he was thinking all the same. How could she not when she had reached the same conclusion earlier.

"You gonna get in?" he asked, stopping when she did.

"Where are you going?"

"My place," he said quietly. "My parents won't be home so…yeah."

She nodded and got in, happy for the silence for once. She did not know what to say or even if they should be conversing. All she knew was that this was something she did not want to do but was willing to anyway. She would not have done it on her own but at least she trusted Karofsky, somewhat.

She let out a giggle at that thought and he glanced at her questioningly.

"I was just thinking," she said once she calmed down, "that it's funny that now that I'm blowing you on a regular basis I trust you."

"Oh," was his only reply and they lapsed into silence again.

The journey came to an end all too soon and she found herself staring at a small, white house with a mahogany door. It was not a bad place to live, she noted, staring a little at the well-kept walls and neat garden.

He came up behind her and placed a hand on her back, guiding her to the door and inside. Closing it and grabbing her hand, he pulled her up the stairs quickly, not giving her a chance to look around or see anything but the blue walls and grey carpeting.

His room, it turned out, was an attic room with the original wood and stone showing, giving it a comforting yet very male feel. There was a bookshelf against one wall and the usual television and game consoles near the other. The centre of a third wall housed a soft-looking bed that she was immediately led to and made to sit on.

Karofsky himself chose to sit on an armchair near the television, his fingers tangling together as he avoided looking at her. She could tell that he was nervous but she did not know how to deal with it.

"Look," he said after a while, "I know that you have some kind of shit going on with you. I mean, I've never seen anyone suck cock so emotionlessly before and you always look kind of disgusted after but…I need this and I kind of need this sober so it's not like I can get a random girl in her to ride my dick whenever I want."

"You can, actually," she pointed out softly, not bothering to raise her voice so that he would barely be able to hear her. He shook his head.

"I can't. Even the thought of a girl doing that…"

"Yeah," she mumbled, seeing where he was going but letting him continue.

"You can say no if you want to. I can't force you to do this."

"I know but you need it."

"I mean, what the fuck is wrong with me?!" He stood up angrily and started pacing. "Why do I have to be such a freak? I need…I need…I need to be normal."

She saw it coming before it actually happened so when he suddenly surged forward and pushed her down onto her back, she did not flinch. Instead, she shuddered and held onto his head as he started sucking on her neck.

"Dave…"

"Just shut up and take it Berry," he muttered into her neck, "Please, just…shut up."


	4. A Brief Return to Innocence

**Title:** The End of Our Castles

**Chapter:** 3

**Characters/Pairings:** Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Dave Karofsky, Sebastian Smythe, Faberry, Quinntana, Pezberry, FaPezBerry, Smythofsky

**Word Count:** 3,383

**Spoilers: **Up to Sectionals from season 1

**Summary:** Sometimes it feels like everything's falling apart around her but she knows better than that. The destruction's already done and she can only hope to survive in the wasteland of her empty soul.

**Warning: **Personally, I don't think this counts as dub-con but the warning's here for anyone who does.

**A/N:** Apologies for the wait but this one was difficult to write, mainly because I had trouble with the tone and the translation of what was in my head to what you see here. I'm still not happy with it but I'll let it slide because I can. A brief note on chapter length, I'm slowly working my way up to an average of 6k - 10k a chapter so bear with me and my gradual increases in chapter length. Also, this will be updated on Saturdays and Sundays now instead of everyday so that I can check over my work. Lyrics used here are from _Tourniquet_ (the chorus this time) from Evanescence. Oh, and for those who are wondering, Ash looks like Miura Haruma.

(Btw_, _I am aware of how many WIPs I have in progress. They will all be finished come hell or high water.)

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Never did.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**A Brief Return to Innocence**

_My God my tourniquet  
Return to me salvation  
My God my tourniquet  
Return to me salvation_

* * *

She took a kick to the stomach.

"You're weak."

* * *

_He sucked on her neck as his palms kneaded her breasts, squeezing and pinching in an effort to do something to her, though she could not say what. She arched up into him, seeking more contact to see if there would be something, anything, but finding nothing there._

_He was just a weight on top of her, crushing the last of her naiveté and her belief that she could find something in what they did together. There was just…numbness, numbness and loathing. Loathing, not for the boy above her, but for herself, that coursed through her body and highlighted the cruelty with which she treated herself._

* * *

A fist to the head sent her flying to the mat below.

"Don't just stand there. Defend yourself or give up."

* * *

_When he entered her she shuddered in pain. She could only feel the unpleasant throbbing around him and nothing else. It was as if all her nerves had died save for this one area where her shame intensified and flamed through her._

_She did not want this, could not want this and yet, here she was, letting this boy use her as if she was nothing more than a doll meant for his own torment and disease. It made her feel sick in a lesser way than what she usually felt but it still was new and so, so terrifying._

_She groaned at a particularly painful thrust and wanted to claw her way out of there, out of that position and the lie she was trying to force herself into. She wanted to escape but she just lay there, letting it happen over and over again._

* * *

"You are pathetic," was said when blood was drawn and she was forced to spit it out before she backed away. "Pathetic and weak and everything that this is not."

* * *

_He pulled out once and slithered down her body until he was resting in between her legs, head bent as if he was studying her. With one hand, she reached down and forced his mouth to her, pushing herself up to see if she would feel anything that way._

_She did not but she forced him closer anyway. This was not penance, not redemption. She knew what it was and she was willing to do anything if it meant that she would find some way to punish herself for her own sins. She had to do this. There was no other choice._

* * *

"You are nothing aspiring to be something. Show me what you are worth."

The impact of her back hitting the ground forced the air out of her lungs and she could feel herself becoming dizzy.

* * *

_When he forced his way in again, all she could do was whimper and hope that it would end soon. This was not nearly enough to satisfy her need for retribution but he could not provide her with anything else. He would not and all she could do was hold on to him as their bodies shook in the bed._

* * *

She felt a sharp pain in her ribs as another kick brought her to her knees and it was all she could do to stand back up without collapsing.

* * *

_He finally pulled out, unable to orgasm or bring her to the edge and rolled off of her before disappearing into what she assumed was the bathroom. She just curled up into herself when he was gone and tried to hold back the tears._

_Even now, she could not afford to be weak, could not let her vulnerabilities show lest he used it to his advantage. She knew that he would not but she could not be sure even of herself and she trusted everyone else less than she appeared to._

* * *

"Do not insult me by simply being my punching bag. Attack me!"

* * *

_She did not acknowledge him when he returned or when he crawled back onto the bed next to her. She did not speak when he pulled the covers over her nor did she look at him when he simply hugged her. She could not._

_This should never have happened, should never have been allowed. She should have said no but it was too much like a deserved punishment to let go of, too much of something that hurt to let the opportunity pass._

_She needed to stop this, she knew, to stop bringing pain to herself, but she had no reason to. She had nothing, no friends, no family, no love. Just…nothing and it was too hard just staying afloat without having to avoid situations like this._

_"Rachel…"_

_"Don't," she whispered harshly, her fingers clinging to him. "Just…don't."_

_"But –"_

_"No!" She did not shake her head so much as her entire body shook. "This? This wasn't about me or what I wanted. I gave you what you needed and you didn't get the results you wanted. I can tell so don't even think about lying. Just…just give me this. Please just give me this."_

_"Alright."_

* * *

When the next attack came, she did not let it connect. Instead, she pulled away at the last minute and raised a hand to block it. Grabbing her opponent's wrist, she spun around and leaned forward, knees bent, pulling him up and over her shoulder.

He fell with a grunt and she used her momentum to pin him to the ground. He struggled but she held on, rolling forward with him into a chokehold. He escaped and made as if to kick her but she dodged and swept him off his feet. Rolling away, she stood up and got into a defensive stance, blocking attack after attack as it came.

When she saw an opening, she took it, using a hammer fist to the shoulder and a kick to the ribs to distract him before spinning into a roundhouse kick that sent him to the mat. Once again, she had him pinned but also used the moment to double her hold as a choke, waiting patiently until he tapped out.

Letting go, she rolled off of him and stood. They bowed to each other and she collapsed onto the mat, staring at the ceiling as she lay on her back, not really seeing it but still trying to find something there. Only, there was nothing. It was just a pointless exercise that she did not know how to carry out, much less succeed at. Just another thing she would never be able to do, she thought with as much disdain as she could direct at herself.

"Stop it."

"Sensei Kato?"

"You're thinking too much when you should let your mind relax as your body does," her teacher said as he sat next to her. "The mind is also a muscle that needs proper treatment and care. It will atrophy and die otherwise."

She nodded, not quite sure what to say to this. She was tired and it sounded like a good idea but she knew that she would get no rest. Her demons would never leave her alone and she was too vulnerable while asleep.

Her eyes found the outline of a web in the seemingly random pattern of dots on the ceiling and she found herself tracing the design, wondering not for the first time why her life could not be this simple. It was as if she was caught in a web of her own making, trapped in something that she could not escape no matter how hard she tried.

Her eyes began to close after a while, luring her into that false security that only sleep could bring. She was tired, oh so tired, and she would give anything to have the same peace that slumber afforded to others but denied her.

"Rachel," her teacher said, calling her back to the world of the waking before sleep's snare could trap her fully. "Rachel-san, you need rest but I cannot allow you to sleep on the dojo's floor. You know that."

"Yes, sensei. I apologise."

He shook his head and helped her up. They both retreated to the edge of the mat and bowed before slipping on a pair of sandals each and walking into a backroom with a cot and a desk. Motioning to the cot, he leaned back against the desk and looked at her.

"You are fading, child. Soon your body will fail you and, if you continue, your mind will follow. You must pace yourself and stop pushing so hard against your boundaries."

"I can't, sensei. I need this. I need…I need to push, to be the best. I can't stop."

"You're lying and I know it so stop insulting me. You're not doing this to be the best. If you were, you wouldn't let me beat you until you bleed, Rachel."

"I know."

He seemed to accept this and nodded.

"Good. That's why you will rest here. I know what you're doing in that house of yours and, if you won't stop, the least you could do is humour me and sleep. I don't want you driving in your condition anyway and this will give me some time to get my idiot son back home with his car."

She nodded and waited for him to leave before laying down and closing her eyes. Sleep was not difficult to find once more and soon she found herself drifting off into the land of dreams and visions, unaware of the world around her.

* * *

She awoke to darkness, a darkness that soothed her and numbed the pain, physical and otherwise. For once she did not feel the need to go through with her ritualistic forms, did not feel the need to clear her mind through movements that she knew all too well. All she felt was…calm.

Peace.

That was something familiar and yet strange now, elusive except for these small pockets of time when she needed nothing more than to just sit there and let time flow around her. It was…enough.

"You're feeling well," a voice suddenly said, interrupting her train of thought. "Ready to go home yet?"

She squinted and found that she could only just see the form of someone in the dark, a tall, slender man – no, boy, she was sure – sitting on the desk. She knew him and that was enough to lay back, not caring if he was a danger or not but knowing that he would do her no harm. He could not, not here, and she knew that he would not want to.

He never did.

"Leave me alone, Ash."

"Nice try but I can't. Dad asked me to check up on you."

"I'm sure he didn't mean for you to actually stay in the room with me while I slept."

"What can I say? You looked…tranquil, peaceful. I've never seen you look that way and I was intrigued. Sue me."

She groaned and turned away from him for a moment. She did not want to face him, not when the implications of his sentence held so much more meaning than she wanted it to.

"You never answered my question, Rachel."

"What?"

"Are you ready to go home yet?"

"No."

"No?"

"She's…she's there and I don't want to be there right now. It hurts too much."

"You can't stay in this room for the entire weekend. The dojo rules don't permit it."

"Then I'll find somewhere else."

"No, you're misunderstanding me. I said that you couldn't stay in this room. I never said that Dad wouldn't let you stay. Hell, I'll sleep on the ground and you can have my bed."

"Your bed is on the ground."

"Even better. It'll be like when we were kids."

"You mean when I was running from the things I was scared of?"

"Have you ever stopped?"

"Touché."

"C'mon, I'll speak to Dad and we can get you set up."

"Okay."

* * *

"I still don't understand why you insist on using a sleeping bag," she grumbled as she slipped into the t-shirt and shorts that Ash had lent her. "It's not as if you're observing any form of Japanese tradition and you really have no reason not to have a bed or a desk or any furniture for that matter."

"You wouldn't understand," he huffed from his position on the floor. "It's a me thing."

"Exactly," she muttered, crawling into his sleeping bag. "Now move."

"Hey! You have your own!"

"You're warmer," she murmured as she burrowed into him. "I don't want to get cold."

If she was honest with herself, it had nothing to do with Ash's body warmth. She just did not want to be alone at that moment. It was as if a switch had been hit during her time asleep and she could not help but revert back into the girl who could not sleep alone because she feared the monsters in the dark. Ash could never get rid of them completely but he helped, somewhat.

"I don't want to go home again," she said as she shifted so that she was laying on top of him. "I just want to stay here and forget everything."

"I know and I would help you if I could but you know that it's not possible, Cricket."

"Shut up," she whined as she wiggled on top of him. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"Really now? 'Cause I won't stop you know. You know what else? I can do this!"

His fingers dug into her sides and she tried to escape but she failed spectacularly. Using his size to his advantage, he ended up rolling them over until he was on top of her, hovering as much as he could in the sleeping bag.

Suddenly she no longer felt like laughing. Her breathing stopped briefly and suddenly she was suffocating beneath him. Pushing him to the side, she found herself backed up against the wall furthest from where he was in the sleeping bag.

"Rachel?"

"No, no, no. God, please no."

She was hugging her knees and rocking back and forth, praying for just one moment that she would stop seeing _her_, that she would see Ash again when she opened her eyes. She could not believe that this was happening now and she just wanted it to _stop_.

"Rach…"

She stood up as if to leave the room but a hand on her wrist prevented her from doing so. He pulled her into him and she tried to breathe in, hoping that she could get rid of whatever was blocking her throat and preventing her from thinking clearly.

The fog slowly receded with each shallow breath that she inhaled, the familiar scent of the dojo that clung to him bringing her back to reality. It was embarrassing, really, how fast she had panicked and she felt her cheeks heat up as she tried not to think about it.

"Talk to me. What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing," she said as she made her way back to the sleeping bag. "It's nothing."

"Rachel…"

"Just drop it, please?"

"Will you freak out again?"

Would she? When she had seen Santana above her instead of Ash she had panicked, wondering what was happening. She did not want to feel that way, did not want to want the girl so much that she could barely walk away from her when she was offering herself so readily. She just wanted to be normal again.

She shook her head and gestured for him to join her. He hesitated but eventually gave in, visibly exhausted. She could only guess at how hard his own training session had been.

"We will talk tomorrow though," he said, turning to face her as he pulled her closer, his hands working out some of the tension in her shoulders. "I mean, for God's sake, Rachel. You tried to run from me. I'm not just going to drop this."

"I know," she said, sleep taking her now. "I know."

* * *

She sat cross-legged on the deck behind Ash's house, her eyes closed as she tried to do as her teacher had suggested and meditate. She had to admit, it was much better at calming her when she could not get to her weapons than any other technique that she had tried yet but she knew somehow that this was a short-lived reprieve.

She needed the pain, needed the reminder that she was human and not just some robot capable of switching everything off without consequences. The wounds were her consequences, her scars marks of punishments past and present that had served their purpose in helping her to see the error of her ways.

She breathed deeply, inhaling the fresh garden scent and exhaling when she could not hold it in. The pattern was a steady rhythm of in, hold, out that was becoming easier as time passed and, after an hour, she was pleased with herself for lasting that long without actually thinking or sinking beneath the surface of her own consciousness.

"I see that you're awake," Ash said as he appeared at her side, a coffee cup in each hand. He handed one to her and sat down, staring straight ahead. "Ready to talk yet?"

"I don't know if I want to."

"That's fine. I can talk enough for both of us." He leant back on one hand and turned to her. "When I was twelve I started to notice girls, one girl in particular. Feisty little thing she was with a big voice and weird clothes. Come to think of it, she's still little and she still has a big voice. Haven't seen her much lately to tell if the clothes are different, though."

Her lips twitched but she kept her face in check, not wanting to give anything away.

"After a while, the crush faded and I kissed Jenna Oswald after soccer practice two years ago. I still look out for her, though, and I still want to be the one she turns to when she's sad. I don't really like it when she's like that. It makes me feel like crying and, you know. Real men don't cry or some shit like that."

"You think you're so cute just because you look like a J-Drama star."

"I don't think that. I know that. I mean, have you seen this face? Worth a million dollars, baby."

She laughed at that, fully and completely laughed. She had forgotten recently that Ash had the power to make her forget, even temporarily, without having to really do all that much.

"Seriously, though," he said after a while. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know…"

"Rachel."

"I know, okay? I need to talk to someone about it all but I can't! I'm vulnerable like that and I can't be! Not here and not in New York!"

He moved as if to reach out to her but seemed to think better of it and, for once, she was grateful that he knew her so well. She did not want pity or empathy or whatever most people called it. She did not need it and she certainly was not going to accept it.

"Look, you don't have to tell me everything. Just…at least tell me why you freaked so much last night. Please, Rachel."

Tell him why she freaked out? She could do that. He did not need to know everything but she could tell him, right?

"I saw Santana when I looked at you for a moment," she said after a while. "I know you two don't look alike but something about the way we were pressed together forced my body to recall when I was in a similar position earlier in the day and suddenly I was there again and you were her."

"Did she…?"

"Did she force me?" She ran a hand through her hair. "Santana does a lot of things but she would never do something like that. The whole point of me freaking out was because I also remembered how hard it was to walk away and yet I did just that."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So what are you going to do?"

"About Santana? I don't know. I should do something, though, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah, you should but the question is what."

"Oh, I know. Trust me, I know what I will do."


	5. Reflection

**Title:** The End of Our Castles

**Chapter:** 4

**Characters/Pairings:** Rachel Berry, Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, Dave Karofsky, Sebastian Smythe, Faberry, Quinntana, Pezberry, FaPezBerry, Smythofsky

**Word Count:** 4,045

**Spoilers: **Up to Sectionals from season 1

**Summary:** Sometimes it feels like everything's falling apart around her but she knows better than that. The destruction's already done and she can only hope to survive in the wasteland of her empty soul.

**Warning: **Personally, I don't think this counts as dub-con but the warning's here for anyone who does.

**A/N:** Right, well. Here's a new chapter. Next one should be up either during the weekend or on Monday. Also, a note on something addressed by ShadowCub. Rachel wasn't exactly raped, at least not in her view. She didn't want it but she was not going to stop Karofsky because, in her view, it's what she deserved. It's a messed up thing but she's sort of fucked up right now and things wil continue to go downhill from here. Eventually you'll see why and she will deal with it but it's just one of the many things that will get to her before the end. This isn't an easy fic for me to write so I beg that you bear with me and, as I told ShadowCub, I'm grateful that you guys are reading this and please feel free to talk to me about it. The story's not set in stone so different perspectives can and do affect how it plays out. Song lyrics from _Demons_ by Imagine Dragons.

(Btw_, _I am aware of how many WIPs I have in progress. They will all be finished come hell or high water.)

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it. Never did.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Reflection**

_When the curtain's call  
Is the last of all  
When the lights fade out  
All the sinners crawl_

* * *

Walking through the doors halls of McKinley Monday morning, she could not help but feel like she was on the edge of a knife, poised to fall to her end. It was not the best feeling to have and she hated it, hated it almost as much as she hated her own vulnerability.

She moved slowly, head held high and eyes straight ahead, ignoring the looks and the whispers, strangely liberated by that same feeling, knowing already that she was no longer the girl who had given into Karofsky's demands the previous Friday. It was a rare freedom that she was fully intending on enjoying.

_Karofsky_.

She had not forgotten about him, could not forget what he – no, she was complicit in it and she had to remember that – what they had done. It had only fully sunk in the next day and it nearly crippled her when it did.

* * *

_She was in the shower when it happened. Her skin was on fire and she felt trapped, closed in as she remembered the way he felt above her, the way he felt inside of her._

_It made her sick, made her want to throw up just thinking about it. After all, she had not really wanted it and yet…yet she had not stopped him, had not taken the out when he had given her one._

_What was wrong with her? Why was she letting herself be used in this way? Did she really not value herself enough to stop him from using her?_

_She shook her head as she leant against the wall, trying not to shiver or let the tears fall. She was sure that he did not rape her. She may not have wanted it, but she encouraged him. She did not verbalise her consent but she had known what she was getting into the moment she stepped into his room._

_She had needed it, thought she had needed to prove that she was not filth. She had needed to prove something but she did not know what or to whom, only that she had to prove it._

_It was all just so fucked up and she could not help the anger that rose in her when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Such was her rage that she could not stop herself from trying to destroy the girl looking back at her._

_She whimpered when she felt the glass embed itself into her skin and fell to the floor one hand cradled in the other. She needed to stop, to think and she could not as long as she was this girl, pretending that everything would get better when clearly it would not._

_She was just deluding herself and it needed to stop. She needed to let her outer appearance reflect everything that she was inside and stop pretending that she was something she clearly was not._

* * *

That was before Ash had found her, before she had decided what to do and how and she had spent the rest of the weekend coming up with a plan that would fulfil her purposes should she ever want to use it. She had not returned to her house, instead choosing to stay with Ash so that they could work out the details, had not really needed to since she always kept a change of clothes there anyway.

It had worked out well for her, having managed to avoid any and every person she did not want to or could not deal with at the moment. The only downside was that she was still plagued by the ever-present guilt that seemed to manifest itself in her nightmares, nightmares that she could not run from as she usually did.

Still, it was not as if it showed. She had had too much practice to fail at this and she knew that she could get away with it. After all, who would notice if she faltered?

* * *

Sitting on the bleachers as she watched the Cheerios practice, Quinn wondered if she really missed it, if she really missed the popularity it had brought to her or if she missed the activity itself. There had always been a disconnect between the two, no matter how much one was related to the other, and she had always felt it, always known that it was there.

Still, even now it felt lonely without the team. No, that was a lie. It had always been lonely. She had just pushed it to the back of her mind before and now she was forced to experience it anew.

Her hand drifted to the top of her stomach and she barely let herself think about the being in there, barely let herself think that she was not really alone, would not be for as long as this child was within her. All she could do was hold on and hope that she could make it.

"Yo, Tubbers! Lizard babies aren't allowed in here. Your loserdom is stinking up the place."

Whatever small hope that had flared inside of her when Santana acknowledged her died at the other girl's words. She was a loser now and she did not belong here. She did not know why she even bothered when that much was clear to her.

Hanging her head, she made to get up and get her things. She needed to leave, to get out before she sank even lower and slipped up in a way she would not have before. She did not even know why she had come here in the first place, only that she felt relaxed when she was here, more relaxed than she could be in her present situation.

Her hands shook too much as she moved, though, and soon everything was falling out of them, clattering as they hit the bleachers. Tears blurred her eyes as the frustration built and she found herself screaming out loud at the sheer impossibility that was her life right now.

Sinking back onto the bench, she did not notice when Santana moved to sit by her, only that she felt the girl's arms around her, felt her senses invaded by the scent that was her and allowed herself to be drawn into the cheerleader's body. She could not help herself then, allowing herself to curl into her, to grasp at her top as she finally let the frustration out.

Santana, for her part, just held the girl, not really caring that she was getting God knew what kind of bodily fluids on her uniform. When she had spoken, she had thought that Quinn could handle it, thought that she knew Quinn could just brush off what she said like she usually did in the past.

It was what they did, after all, the constant insults and bitchy attitude defining the outer fringes of their friendship that hid the sides they both never showed to anyone else. They needed to appear that way, both having too many secrets that could destroy them, both knowing how damaged the other was and just how close they were to the breaking point.

She wondered what had happened to get Quinn to the point where she could no longer pretend, where she could no longer discern friend from foe. Could it have been when Berry had spilled the beans? Or was it something else entirely, something that Quinn was too afraid to talk about?

She did not know but she was determined to find out. She may have loved Brittany, may have lusted after Berry, but Quinn was the one who understood her, the only one who knew how to make the pain go away.

* * *

She did not so much as slip into class as she strutted in, not sparing a glance for anyone as she headed to the back of the class. She was tired of pretending that she was the A-grade student eager to learn when, really, she was just bored all the time.

All she wanted was to get the day over and done with, to go back to her house and release her frustrations in the only way she knew how. She did not even need to be there in class to know what was being taught, having already gotten through the entire syllabus during the first few months of the semester. Having no friends did that to you.

Leaning back in her seat, she closed her eyes and let her breathing even out. If she had to be here, then she would do what she wanted now, rather than fake her attention.

Something hitting her square in the chest caught her attention and she slowly opened her eyes, looking down to find that there was a balled up piece of paper in her lap. Picking it up, she opened it and smirked.

_Looking good, Berry. You're a hot Jew and I'm a hot Jew. What say we get together tonight and have some real fun?_

Shaking her head, she made sure that Puck was looking when she tore the paper in half, balled it up and threw it back at him. If he thought that he could get her into his bed then he was deluding himself. She had had enough of boys just using her for their own pleasure when she was not even interested in them anyway.

Frowning, she thought about that statement. She was not tired of _boys_ using her. She was tired of everyone using her for their own entertainment, tired of not fighting back and just rolling over because someone said jump.

That Rachel was dead, killed by her own desperation and hopelessness. She was a different person, someone that no one really knew, and she was going to be that person completely now. This was the point of no return for her and she was embracing it in its entirety.

* * *

He was not sure why he was doing this but he needed to talk to her, to make sure that he had not hurt her in a way that he could not take back. He knew that they could not return to what they were before they had done what they had, but he wanted to make sure that she was fine. He owed her that much after all he had done to her in the past.

Standing by her locker, he wondered if he should even approach her, talk to her when she always went out of her way to avoid him outside of their…activities. He had always wondered why she even agreed to it but he had never asked. Did he even know why?

Thinking about it, he realised that he did not really know her that well. Everyone thought they did but there was something about her that was hidden, something dark and dangerous that he could feel whenever he was around her.

Leaning back, he pressed a hand to his face, telling himself not to think about it too much. If he did, he would run and that would only serve to defeat the purpose of his being there in the first place.

"Dave?"

He removed his hand and found himself coming face to face with her, her head tilted to the side as she took him in. Distractedly, he noticed that she was dressed differently, dressed in a way that seemed to be more her than what she used to wear.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"I gathered," she said as he moved to the side to allow her to access her locker, "but what I don't know is about what."

"I just…I wanted to…I need…" he trailed off, struggling to find his words. How did she do this all the time? "I need to make sure that you're…that you're…"

"That I'm what? Not going to tell? That I'm going to keep my mouth shut?"

He shook his head violently. "No! Not that much anyway. I mean, you can talk about what we did and stuff, just not why."

"I see." She turned to him, eyes narrowed and lips drawn together in a thin line. "Well, if that's all, I really should be getting to class."

"What? No! I'm not done."

He saw her shoulders slump as she turned to face him and was about to back up and let her go, when she shook her head. Leaning back against the lockers, she sighed.

"Dave, I'm not sure what you want from me."

"I…I just want to make sure you're fine. When you left you looked like you were about to hurl so I thought I should check…you know, 'cause I was the one who forced you into this."

She shook her head.

"I didn't want to lose my virginity to you, it's true. However, don't you dare place all the blame on yourself for this. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I got into your truck and honestly? You gave me the opportunity to leave and I didn't take it. This was as much about me trying to prove something as it was about you."

With that, she walked away but he did not really believe her. He could not bring himself to believe her when he still remembered the tears, the shame on her face when she walked away from him that day.

Shaking his head, he decided to just leave it alone for now. If Berry wanted to play the avoidance game then he would leave her to it. He already had too much to deal with without getting into her problems as well.

* * *

She waited until she was sure that he was not looking before ducking into the nearest bathroom. Gripping the edges of the counter, she stared at herself in the mirror, wondering what other people saw, what other people thought they saw when they looked at her.

Was it arrogance? Pride? Shame?

She could not tell just from her reflection but then again, she had always seen herself for the disgrace that she really was. Nothing ever changed for her, no matter how much she wished it would, and she always wondered what she would have to do to get away from that person.

Sleeping with Karofsky had not helped. She was still an abomination, made dirtier because she let him use her in such a way that she could not deny her own shame, could not deny that she was doing nothing more than whoring out her own body to get what she wanted.

She did not register when the door opened but, when she saw Santana in the mirror, she did not jump either. She should have known, really, when she saw her leaving the gym with Quinn, that this was coming, should have expected it. The fact that she did not was just a sign of her growing apathy.

"I'm not in the mood, Santana," she said, gathering her things from where she had dropped them earlier and moving towards the door. "Maybe later."

"No way, RuPaul." The cheerleader easily blocked her path and leaned against the door. "I'm gonna talk and you're gonna listen, understand?"

She could have moved her easily, knew exactly what to do to get around Santana but she was tired already and she just wanted to sleep now. Nodding her head instead, she moved back and leant against the counter.

"I know that Q's living with you now. Hard not to notice when I pass by your place every day and notice that Fabray's car has taken up permanent residence in your driveway."

"I'm surprised you even know where I live," she muttered under her breath, filling that information away for later. "And here I thought the jocks managed to fuck your intelligence away."

"The fuck Berry? Since when did you grow balls? Or did they finally drop?"

"Since when did you care?" She stopped and thought about it for a moment before smirking as she continued. "And even if I had male genitalia, which I do not, I'm positive that they would be bigger than anything you've ever experienced."

Santana cracked a grin then, seemingly surprised by Rachel's quip. Rachel herself was surprised by her words but she let it pass without changing her expression, not really in the mood to give Santana much to work with.

Waving her hand tiredly, she motioned for her to continue, not meeting her gaze. She did not want to, did not want to see the judgement that would be there.

"I want to know what you did to her that her preggers ass can't handle being told that she's a fatass, much less that she's pregnant with Puck's lizard baby."

"I didn't do anything to her, Lopez. If she wants to play the victim card she can go right ahead and do it. I, for one, want nothing to do with her and the only reason she's even living in my house is because I have the room, not because I feel particularly attached to her."

She took a breath, stalling for time as she composed her thoughts. "I have no idea what's going on with Quinn and I don't want to. I have enough on my plate without having to put up with her drama and, quite frankly? I'm not interested. If you want to know what's going on with her, ask her yourself, but don't come accusing me of doing something to her when I wasn't even there to do anything in the first place."

Composing herself further, she pushed past Santana and exited the room.

* * *

Santana stood there, confused by what had just happened. Did _Rachel Berry_, the Broadway obsessed, annoying diva of a girl, just stand up to her?

She was impressed, to say the least, and furious, but most of all, she just wanted to know why. This was a side of her that she had never seen before and she wanted to know why it was suddenly rearing its head now instead of when everything started.

It was disconcerting and she felt off-balanced as she followed the other girl out. Unfortunately, she was long gone by the time Santana had exited the bathroom, causing her to sigh as she headed off to her next class.

It had been a long time since she had felt this way, confused and lost, and she did not know why. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing that had happened beyond that little speech that had any significance or merit. Still, something was not right and she could tell that it would blow up in the other girl's face. Things like this always did.

However, Berry was a mystery she would have to solve at some other time. For now she needed to get out of her head before she did something to destroy what she had tried so hard to build. Walking into class and taking the empty seat next to Quinn, she was sure that she would need to preserve that cover if only because of what she was going to do.

Reaching across the small space between them, she grabbed Quinn's hands and laced their fingers together, squeezing tightly when she felt the girl's gaze fix itself on her. Not really looking at her, she just nodded, a silent reassurance that she was going to be there for her, that she was willing to be there for her.

* * *

She tried to control herself as she watched them, tried to make the anger stop but she could not and she did not understand why. Quinn and Santana were entitled to their own relationships, their own dynamics, and it had nothing to do with her, was supposed to have nothing to do with her.

So why was the rage building now? What was the catalyst that set it back to running just beneath the surface when she had felt no sign of it before? What made this situation so special as to set it running again?

She could not figure out why their holding hands bothered her and that in itself was another annoyance to add to what was already turning out to be a very bad day. Could they not stop, stay away from each other until she could get out of there?

She was being irrational, she knew, but there was something about it that was driving her to insanity and she could not focus on anything but that. Just sitting there in that class with the two of them was enough to set her on edge, but this new development only added to it.

_Focus, Rachel_, she thought, trying to find something, anything else to distract her from what was happening now. Neither classmates nor teacher were wanted and she was still too awake to find solace in sleep.

Unconciously, her left hand traced the skin beneath her shirt, nails digging into the flesh beneath in a stinging trail that eased her mind somewhat. It had only been a few days since her last night time session but the temporary clarity she received from this action was enough to make her sigh in relief.

Her mind, now sharper, was finally able to focus on something other than the two girls and she gladly let it wander to the page in front of her. There was really nothing of interest there but she found it calming to just read the words, noting that she no longer felt the same excitement for Shakespeare that she once had.

Idly, she wondered why that was. Did it have anything to do with her once status as a performer? Or had she just grown that jaded from everything that had occurred to her over the years that nothing that once thrilled her seemed to be appealing in the least.

She sighed and gave up on the text a few minutes later, choosing instead to lay her head on the desk and close her eyes. Everything still hurt and she did not want to feel the physical pain right now, not when, combined with her frustration, it would only serve as an annoyance rather than a welcomed method of distraction.

Distraction. She wanted to snort at the word. She had always been one, her father had once told her, a distraction from life, from his marriage, from his job. She was the kind of person who distracted others in a way that was not only disruptive but also poisonous.

_She_ was poison.

She could not help but think that it was true. She was toxic in the worst of ways, seeping into a person's life and destroying it from the inside, the cause of many, many, too many arguments, too many nights of darkness and not enough of light, tempting and seducing no matter how hard she tried not to until it all became too much.

It had always been her fault and now other people were paying the consequences and she did not know how to stop herself. She did not know how to prevent the chaos that accompanied her wherever she went and it was disconcerting, to say the least, not to mention that she could not understand why she was the reason for all of this.

She could not even remember a time when she was not what she was. It was as if she had been born to destroy rather than to create, born to kill any and all happiness that she came across until her own happiness was so far out of reach that it might as well not have been there as far as she was concerned.

Looking back, she realised that she should have never decided to come here, choosing instead to go with the private school route just like Ash did. It seemed better that way and she would not have had to ruin anything for the likes of Quinn and Santana who had everything they could ever want.

She scoffed at that thought. Who was she kidding? She had never had anything to do with Quinn's fall. That was all on her and no matter how hard she tried to rationalise it with herself, that was how it would remain.

Still, she mused as she stood up when the bell rang, change must come and come it would. She would make sure of that.


End file.
